Joy – Woodsmoke and Cardamom

Phlox and Asters

It’s November now. The phlox and asters have long since ended their blooming season, and the time is fast approaching when the house will once again be filled with the heady scent of cardamom as Christmas bread rises and bakes. How the seasons swirl by, with one set of pleasure-to-the-senses melding into the next! One of my nieces asked me recently if I would be baking Christmas bread this year. “IF”?!?! It could hardly be Christmas if not!!! So, yes – of course!! And I can hardly wait to get started!

If you are among the fortunate souls who take great pleasure in the baking of homemade bread, you need no explanation for the joy it brings. If not, I will try to describe it as best I can.

It often begins with merely the delightful anticipation of the process itself! The gathering of the tools and ingredients, greasing of pans, seasoned to black from many years of use. Though my lovely black bread-tins are used only for our toast and sandwich bread, they are a precious treasure to me, handed down with love from my mama after her many years of baking for our family.

My bread-board, too, is a treasure I have used for many years, built by my dad, well-used by my mom.

My “canister” for flour is immense: 11″ tall, 9+” in diameter, holds the 10lbs of flour I buy at a time throughout the year. 25lbs at Christmas time won’t fit all at once, but it doesn’t take long to get through it!! And my lovely bread bowl that only comes out for Christmas bread (I use my bread-mixer the rest of the year)

flour “canister,” bread bowl and wooden spoon

I have always loved the scent of yeast, that conjures memories of my childhood home and Mama, baking bread in our cozy kitchen. From the moment the yeast hits the lukewarm water, I am transported to that kitchen and all the wonderful memories of the best childhood, filled with love and laughter.

Here is a link to the recipe for Christmas Bread, aka Swedish Coffee Bread:

https://wp.me/p2i29U-1D

And to circle back to the title of this post: another simple joy of my childhood, and the beginning of my lifelong love of these wildflowers, was the tiny not-quite-meadow of tall grasses, phlox and asters that grew between our yard and the next-door neighbor’s.

Freedom

by Lucy M. Young

My body may be handicapped
But my mind and heart are free,
And my spirit leads me outward
Where my heart most longs to be.

I soar with the astronauts
In weightless carefree joy,
The stars my sparkling neighbors,
The moon a bright new toy.

I roam through fields of clover
And drink from mountain streams;
Reality's so dull beside
The splendor of my dreams.

They lead me through the velvet night
Where moonglow lights my way,
From the vivid glow of sunset
To the rosy dawn of day.

With the wind and rain for playmates
My gypsy heart roams free,
From stately stands of virgin pine
To the wind caves by the sea.

O'er the burning sands of the desert
And the Northland's ice and snow,
In the rushing roar of the ocean,
Great peace and joy I know.

But I must needs return to earth,
To my crutches and my pain;
'Til my spirit leads me outward
To freedom once again.

Your Plan for Me

by Lucy M. Young

Dear Lord, what do You have in mind for me to do? What menial task, What act of love or sacrifice is in Your plan for me? I’m tired of the daily round of meaningless activities. I need a reason for existence, a goal to strive for. Give me, Lord, a dream, And strength to work toward its completion. It needn’t be a great earth-shattering project – Just help me feel my life is not in vain. If nothing else, Lord, let me be a good example of usefulness in spite of handicap, And cheerfulness despite whatever pain may fill my waking hours; Then when at night my body cries for rest, I pray that You may feel I’ve done my best Your purpose to fulfill; And then, Lord, grant me peaceful sleep And quiet happy dreams throughout the night.

Just for You

Just for you, my friend, the sun is shining;
Just for you no clouds are in the sky.
The springtime flowers bloom in all their glory;
Just for you the birds are flying high.

Just for you my prayers rise to the Father
For quick recovery from your long travail;
For peace of mind and happiness and confidence
That pain and sadness cannot long prevail.

Just for you the birds are singing sweetly;
Their happy songs, 'though old seem ever new;
They sing of hope and love, of faith and gladness,
And lift their hearts in glad song just for you.

Teach Us to Forgive

by Lucy M. Young

Lord, teach us to forgive
For only by forgiving can we ever hope
To be forgiven,
Or find the peace of mind and heart we need
To go on living.
Only if we're able to forgive
Can we truly love each other as You asked.

I thank you, Lord,
For helping me forgive a friend
Who hurt me deeply long ago.
For many wasted years I bore ill will and anger.
It festered in my mind
And grew to such proportions
That my entire life was tainted and controlled
By bitterness and cynicism.

Then one glad day You softly spoke to me
And I forgave my friend.
A cruel weight was lifted from my heart.
My soul was flooded with such peace and joy
The world looked beautiful to me again.
My mind and heart and soul were cleansed
And I was free once more
To live and love and serve.

I thank you, Lord, for teaching me forgiveness.

I Thank You, Lord

by Lucy M. Young

I thank You, Lord, that I can see
The deep blue sky, the restless sea;
The stars at night, the sun by day
The flowers that bloom along my way.

I thank You, Lord, that I can hear
The sound of things that I hold dear -
The songs of birds, a glad refrain,
The symphony of wind and rain.

I thank You, Lord, that I can touch
And feel the things that mean so much -
A friendly hand, a gentle shower,
The velvet petals of a flower.

I thank You, Lord, that I can savor,
Not only food of every flavor,
But life as well, and love and gladness,
Seasoned with a touch of sadness.

For joy and pain go hand in hand,
And 'though we may not understand
Why this must be, I thank You for
These things, and will not ask for more.

A Real Gift

by Lucy M. Young

photo by Filipe de Rodrigues on Unsplash

A gift is not a real gift
Unless it hurts to give it,
And we can't find true joy in life
'Less it hurts a bit to live it.
To give away a useless thing
Or something we don't need
Is like throwing trash in the fire
Or pulling up a weed.
If we give away a lovely thing
We care about and treasure,
Our small amount of sacrifice
Makes giving it a pleasure.

Could we really see the beauty 
Of a lovely sunny day,
If skies were always bright and blue
And never a stormy gray?
Could we enjoy a bright today
And never dread tomorrow
If we have not experienced
A bit of grief and sorrow?
So we must live with joy and pain,
And share our choicest treasure
To ever know true happiness
And love in boundless measure.

So Much Love

by Lucy M. Young

I never knew the joy of bearing children.
For reasons known to God alone
It was denied me.
'Twas said that I'm not fit to be a mother;
I can't believe it's true, but then again
It may be.

I do not understand
Why all the mother love I feel
Should have to be repressed.
The love I would bestow upon my own
Was always freely given to other people's children.

I've so much love -
The more I give the more I have to give.
I pray the Father in His tender mercy
Will help me find a way to use this love;
And grant me courage to defy
Any who'd keep me from experiencing the joy of giving love
To all the children of my lonely heart.

Hope

by Lucy M. Young

When sadness overwhelms me
And troubles pile so high
There seems no way around them,
I think I want to die.
When fear and doubt are rampant,
And I want to run and hide,
There's no relief, no solace
In anything I've tried.

I stand and look around me;
The sun is shining bright
Upon the barren frozen earth,
But Spring's almost in sight.
Beneath the snow the flowers wait
To bloom in all their glory,
All nature soon will be awake
To tell the age-old story

Of love and resurrection;
For 'though our days are dark,
Beneath the pain of our despair
There is a tiny spark
Of hope. If we will see it,
And nourish it with prayer;
Our troubles all will disappear,
And joy will vanquish care.

Christmas Memories

by Lucy M. Young

I would give everything I have or ever hope to have
If I could but return to yesteryear
And Christmas as it used to be when I was young
By ordinary standards we were poor.
But we didn't know it
Money was a very scarce commodity.
Not knowing what it was, we didn't miss it;
For we were truly rich beyond compare in all the things that matter
We had love and understanding,
Security from cold and hunger.
We were content with what we had.
Our world was beautiful, our happiness complete.
Our home was filled with so much love and Christmas spirit
That I can almost taste it even now.

We never made a Christmas list
Nor asked for any special thing.
But waited with such glad anticipation for Christmas morning
To find our home-made gifts beneath the tree,
And see the joy on the faces of our loved ones
When they received the things we'd made for them.

Memories come crowding back
Of snow and sparkling, starry nights;
The one large Christmas star which shone above the mountains
in the East
Bringing in the tree and trimming it;
The cold clean smell of balsam
Spicy smells of Christmas goodies baking in the kitchen,
Smiling faces, happy hearts, excited chatter;
Oyster stew on Christmas Eve;
Oranges and nuts and shiny red-cheeked apples;
Candy bags upon the branches of the tree;
Mother at the organ playing Christmas Carols
While we gathered 'round her singing joyously.

Santa Claus was just a pleasant character like Mother Goose
or Cinderella's fairy godmother.
We knew what Christmas really meant -
The birthday of our Lord.
We knew our gifts came from each other
In memory of His birth.

Dear Lord, I'd give all I possess
If I could just have one more Christmas as it used to be
With all the warmth and love and joy and peace
But I do thank you most sincerely for these precious memories
Of Christmas day at home so long ago.